Young Westmacott recoiled, the heat all frozen out of him.

But Blake scarce looked at him, his smouldering glance was all for Ruth, who watched him with incipient fear, despite herself.
"Madam," he said, "'tis not to be supposed a mind holding so much thought for a husband's safety could find room for any concern as to another's.

I will ask you, natheless, to consider what tale I am to bear Lord Feversham." "What tale ?" said she.
"Aye--that will account for what has chanced; for my failure to discharge the task entrusted me, and for the slaughter of an officer of his and twenty men.
"Why ask me this ?" she demanded half angrily; then suddenly bethinking her of how she had ruined his enterprise, and of the position in which she had placed him, she softened.

Her clear mind held justice very dear.
She approached.

"Oh, I am sorry--sorry, Sir Rowland," she cried.
He sneered.